


Hey Bulldog

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Death Spells, Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bittersweet, Complete, Dreams, Established Relationship, F/M, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Nightmares, One Shot, POV Third Person Limited, Polyamory, Spring, Touring, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 04:32:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank has sex with three different people during the Death Spells tour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey Bulldog

**Author's Note:**

> This is all the fault of James Dewees and his bulldog tweets.

**_Jack knife in your sweaty hands_**

Frank’s already cursing and he’s only been at this for five minutes. He has no idea how he’s going to make all of their gear, merch, his guitar (because he never goes anywhere without one), clothes, and food for the first part of the tour all fit in the van. Dewees was certain there would be enough room. Frank is not convinced. He’s pounding on a box of t-shirts when his phone buzzes against his hip with a text message. 

He backs up, wiping his sweaty brow and huffing out a deep breath as he pulls out his phone. The text is from Gee.  
_Why won’t you talk to me?_

Frank shoves his phone back into his pocket faster than he can say, “Motherfucker!” and goes back toward the house shouting, “Dewees! This is not going to work!”

*_*_*

**_Some kind of happiness is measured out in miles  
What makes you think you're something special when you smile?_**

Frank slides inside and it’s fucking perfect, wet and warm and familiar even though it’s been years. Lindsey’s got her legs wrapped around his waist and she pulls him in deeper with them, her eyes squeezed shut tight. The rhythm Frank sets up is punishing from the start, but Lindsey clearly doesn’t mind, her lips turning up into a grin. Yeah, he remembers, this is the way she likes it. 

Her eyelids flutter open and her grin travels up her face, her eyes crinkling up at the corners. This close Frank feels like all he can see is her eyes and he grins back unconsciously. Lindsey’s hand flies up to his face and she caresses his cheek. “I fucking love your smile, Frankie.” She breathes out, “haven’t seen enough of it on this tour.” 

Frank huffs out a laugh. “Fucking whatever,” he forces out, working to keep up the speed of his thrusts as Lindsey starts gasping. “Smiles are overrated.” 

*_*_*

Lindsey’s asleep with her head on Frank’s chest when his phone vibrates on the nightstand. He picks it up to see a text from Gerard,  
_It isn’t true. What they say. It isn’t true._

Frank looks at the words for a while and waits for another text to come in. When it’s been over a minute and Gee hasn’t said anything else, Frank rolls his eyes and sighs as he takes the bait, knowing he’ll probably regret it, but also knowing that ignoring it would hurt Gee too badly. Frank isn’t actually trying to hurt Gerard. He just can’t handle him right now. He replies,  
_What isn’t true?_

Gerard’s response comes quickly, almost as if he had it ready,  
_Well, maybe it’s true for some people, but clearly not for you. Absence obviously doesn’t make your heart grow fonder._

Frank sets the phone back on the nightstand with carefully controlled movements and lets his rage simmer for a while. He’s still steaming when he finally falls asleep. He dreams about a post-apocalyptic world where everything’s destroyed and he’s trying to find his family and friends. He finds Jamia and the kids and his parents, but then he’s trying to find Ray and Gee and Mikey and he looks and looks, but he can’t find them anywhere. 

In the morning he texts Gerard back,  
_I DO miss you, asshole._

It’s a few hours before Gerard replies,  
_It just doesn’t seem like you do, Frankie._

Frank doesn’t even bother responding to that because really, what the fuck is he supposed to say? 

*_*_*

“We are so fucking lost,” Frank whines. “How are we so fucking lost?” 

“Told you we should have used my phone’s Maps App.” Dewees knocks his hand against the navigator that came with the van. “This thing is a piece of shit.” 

“Unhelpful,” Frank spits out. “This makes no sense.” He pulls over and starts looking back through the directions on the nav, frowning as he tries to figure out where they went wrong. “Jeez, we’re at least ten miles from where we should be. What a fucking waste of gas, man.” 

When Frank looks up, Dewees has Frank’s phone and is taking a picture of the house they’ve stopped beside. “What are you doing?” Frank demands. Dewees hands Frank back the phone and he sees that the Death Spells’ twitter account is open. 

Frank looks at Dewees questioningly. James just shrugs. “Figure we oughta let the fans know we’re lost. Part of the excitement of touring, you know?”

Frank rolls his eyes but he can’t help it as a laugh escapes, followed by several more. He shakes his head as he tweets #suburbankill, feeling unreasonably proud of the silly hashtag.

In a sing-song voice, James is saying half under his breath, “I made Frankie laugh, I win the tour.” Frank slaps his shoulder, it ends up being harder than he’d meant it to. James winces, grabbing at his shoulder and pushing Frank’s hand away. “Ow, fuck you! See if I ever try to cheer you up again.” He pouts and rubs his shoulder.

“Oh Fuck you. Will you put the fucking address of the venue in your goddamn Maps App? We don’t actually have time for this.”

Dewees grabs his phone and puts in the address, still smirking. 

“You can quit being smug any time now,” Frank says irritably. He’s still smiling, though.

*_*_*

**_Some kind of innocence is measured out in years  
You don't know what it's like to listen to your fears_**

Frank’s children are his saving grace. 

He’ll never understand how it is that they can make him feel so many things at once. He caresses their cherub cheeks and kisses their heads and can’t believe how much he’s missed them after only a few days. He can’t understand how he managed to be away from them for weeks at a time when the girls were babies. Thank God for Skype and Face Time but still… remembering it feels like it was someone else’s life. 

It was his life, though. It just seems so distant even though it was only a couple of years ago. Frank still loves touring. He loves making live music every night. Without the promise of touring, or at least playing live regularly, he doesn’t think he’d be able to cope with this world. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. He thinks all of the dirty, ugly things inside of him would well up and explode out of him, come oozing out of his mouth in angry, rage-filled diatribes. He would alienate everyone he loves without an outlet for all of his inner emotional filth. Leathermouth was great for that and so is Death Spells. Honestly, he feels like Death Spells is long overdue. Frank’s got so much hurt and anger to burn through right now. He isn’t done getting out yet, not nearly done. He won’t be for a while. 

Frank’s children know nothing of this. He watches them play lightheartedly with the dogs, arguing over who gets to be which princess and who’s turn it is to pick the story they read; such trivial things, but so important to children. This is how it should be, he thinks. This is what childhood is meant to be. 

Frank goes into the other room to go online and check the news to get updates on the situation in Boston. He whispers to Jamia what he reads. The kids don’t know. They smile and laugh and play. Frank holds Jamia maybe a bit more tightly than normal and is beyond thankful that he’s home with his family tonight. 

*_*_*

Frank and Jamia both cry while making love that night. It isn’t noisy, dramatic crying, just tear-stained cheeks as a hundred I-love-yous are whispered between them, voices hushed to not wake the children. 

Frank is at home in the body of the love of his life. Her curves wrapped around him and her soft voice ringing in his ears like sweet music. “I love you. I love you. I love you so goddamn much.” The words echo in Frank’s head all night long and he dreams of summer and swimming in the ocean. 

*_*_*

In the morning Frank sees the most beautiful flowering tree and he has to tweet about it. He just has to. 

He feels better than he has in months. It’s as if he turned some kind of corner last night and woke up on the other side of something. He can’t explain it and he isn’t going to try to examine it too hard. But he’s sure there’s something in there about tragedies making you appreciate everything you have and maybe taking some things less seriously. It’s probably something to do with gaining perspective.

It’s a new day.

*_*_*

**_Some kind of solitude is measured out in you  
You think you know me but you haven't got a clue_**

Dewees teases Frank about spending so much time talking to the fans. It’s like, he totally gets it, but sometimes Frank isn’t really sure he gets it. Sometimes Frank thinks that no one really gets the way he feels about his fans.

“It’s incredible this way you have with them,” James says once they finally get on the road after the New York City show. “You act like you know them.”

Frank shrugs. “Well I do know them.” He says, reasonably, “They’re my fans. I already know so much about them just from that. Why shouldn’t I act like I know them?”

“I don’t know, man.” Dewees scratches his head. “I get that, but it’s more than that. You have this way where it’s just obvious all over you, how happy they make you, how much you like them. It’s like you practically fucking glow, and it lasts for hours.” 

Frank grins. “I love them. They’re all such amazing people, so many interesting stories…” He waves his hand. “I can’t really explain what it is, but you’re right. It makes me happy in a way that nothing else does. There isn’t anything like spending time around these people… these people who in one sense don’t know me at all, but who already believe they love me.” Frank pauses, trying to make sense of his thoughts before he continues, “While on the other hand, they know me incredibly well if they’re reading my words and listening to my music. If they get it then they know me as well as some of the people I call friends, and they love me anyway, which is really saying something for a Death Spells or Leathermouth fan. Any normal person would run away screaming when faced with those kinds of inner demons, but these fans don’t, because they _get_ it. They’re really incredible people.” Frank scratches his head as he thinks about it some more. “I wouldn’t be able to do all this without them, you know?”

Dewees nods, and Frank sees a grin spread across his face in the eerie green glow from the dashboard. “Oh yeah, I definitely know.” Frank realizes that there’s a tear running down James’ left cheek.

Frank smiles and pats Dewees on the shoulder. “Yeah, ‘course you do.”

Dewees sniffles. “Why do you have to be such an articulate motherfucker, Jesus.” 

Frank laughs.

*_*_* 

Gerard is the king of passive-aggressive resentment. He emails Frank with a link to a tumblr full of photos of Frank talking on the phone with a fan. All the email says is,  
_You’ll talk to the fans all night long, but you won’t talk to me._

Frank emails him back,  
_From looking at your recent twitter activity, I can say the same exact thing about you._

Gerard doesn’t reply.

*_*_*

Sex with Dewees isn’t like sex with anyone else. It doesn’t happen very often. James is Frank’s best friend after all and their relationship really is platonic, but James gives amazing head and when he fucks Frank, well… James has this way of making Frank forget about everything else in the world and just _feel_ it. The only other person who can do that is Gee. Frank’s sure it’s just because James has known him for so long. He knows all the right places to touch to make Frank let go and relax. 

And James can go for a really fucking long time. Like tonight; Tonight is the best because James blew him right when they got in the hotel room and then he took his time, massaging Frank’s aching muscles in all the places where he hurts the most, before teasing Frank back to hardness again. And then James just lets him have it. He doesn’t hold anything back, fucking Frank like his life depends on it and Frank feels like he’s on fire it’s so damn good. 

James hits his prostate on every stroke and Frank feels as if he’s falling apart, or maybe melting. Yeah, that’s it. His whole body is just melting into a puddle of ecstasy on the mattress as James pounds into him. 

“Fucking, love it,” is all Frank manages to gasp out before he screams and comes so hard he whites out. 

James comes back right away after pulling out and getting rid of the condom. He runs his fingertips over Frank’s back until goose-pimples break out all over his skin. Frank gets that awesome pins and needles sensation and feels all floaty, like he’s hovering somewhere close to the ceiling in post-orgasmic bliss. 

“Best first tour,” Frank croaks out, before leaning over to peck James on the lips. They don’t usually kiss much, but Frank feels like it’s necessary to seal the statement because it’s true, they couldn’t have asked for a better first tour. 

“Best first tour,” James grins back, petting at Frank’s face with the back of his hand. 

Frank smiles and feels warm and full of hope. 

*_*_*

**_If you’re lonely you can talk to me_**

They have the most fun driving home. Frank finally gets time to finish going through all the awesome shit that fans gave him. He makes sure to tweet thanks to everyone he can. Then he and Dewees go through their phones and find their favorite pictures from the tour to tweet from the Death Spells account. They get a lot of amusing replies. There’s a lot of laughter on the long drive and Frank doesn’t think he stops smiling the whole day. 

Then they talk about plans for Skate & Surf and for finally getting the album out. They talk about different things they could incorporate into their live show, still stoked about getting the neon cross onstage. It’s a good day and by the time Frank gets home he feels nothing but optimism for the future. 

He feels unsettled all evening, though, and it isn’t until just after he’s tucked the kids into bed that he lets himself figure out why. Once he does, though, he feels like an idiot because it’s so obvious. 

He pulls on his coat and takes the dogs out into the back yard with him. He sits down on the deck and feels like he needs to have a cigarette for what he’s about to do. In the past, he always would have. 

Gerard picks up on the first ring and answers with, “Fuck you.”

His voice is filled with venom and Frank is glad because that means Gee is finally being honest. He was trying too fucking hard to be nice before and all that did was make Frank angrier. It just made it worse. “Fuck you, too,” Frank replies easily. 

“God dammit, Frankie-” Gerard sounds so exasperated. 

Frank cuts him off. “It’s so fucking good to hear your voice.”

Gerard stops abruptly, obviously surprised and there’s just breathing on the line for a few seconds. He sounds incredibly unsure as he breathes out, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Frank nods, even though he knows Gerard can’t see it. He smiles to himself as he says, “Talk to me.”


End file.
